Emilie pulled another book into her hand, well aware that her mother refused to let her near any tome at Hatchards that had anything to do with the old masters, so she had concocted the idea of buying a novel as a present for her sisters.
Her mother gasped. Instantly, Emilie glimpsed Marcus entering the shop and searched behind him.
Marcus greeted Emilie’s mother.
‘What a shock seeing you here,’ her mother said, giving a narrow-browed glance at Emilie. ‘A total surprise to both of...us.’
‘Lord Grayson?’ Emilie asked, peering at the window. ‘Is your brother with you?’
He shook his head. ‘He was called away on urgent business today. A flower he wanted to pick or some such thing.’
‘Oh,’ she said, shrugging. ‘It is just as well.’
‘Miss Catesby.’ Marcus picked up the first book he saw, the fingers of his right hand running along the closed pages. ‘I’m searching for a volume for my dear brother. Might you help me choose one?’
Emilie demurred. ‘I must ask first to see if the task is acceptable with my mother.’
‘I will be right here, watching,’ her mother’s words rushed out. Then the older woman caught herself and held her head straight. Her words slowed. ‘Of course, you may consider all the volumes, as long as there are no improper engravings. I detest improper engravings.’
Marcus turned to Emilie, his view no longer in her mother’s line of vision.
Emilie touched gloved fingertips to her cheeks. ‘I could never do such a thing.’ With her mother present.
‘I am completely in agreement with your views on that, Miss Catesby.’ He spoke softly. She read his thoughts. They were in agreement.
‘Might we go and choose from the most wholesome selections, Miss Catesby?’ He pointed the book in his hand towards the art section.
‘Indeed,’ she said.
Unsurprisingly, her mother followed them, remaining within earshot behind Marcus.
Marcus put his choice on the shelf and selected another book, thumbed through it and put it back with the others, his arm moving closer to Emilie’s side. Then, his tongue pressing against his cheek, he viewed a third volume. ‘My brother would like this book.’
‘Perhaps you should purchase it for him.’
‘Perish the thought.’ He shoved the book back on to the shelf. ‘I assume he would like it because the engravings are large and the words are few.’
‘That is not a kind thing to say about your own brother.’
He remained close, their shoulders brushing. ‘Sometimes I don’t cherish him as much as others. Like last night.’
She immediately studied the book in front of her. ‘This has excellent reproductions.’
He glanced over her shoulder. ‘The words are too long for Nate.’
‘You are not being kind.’
‘I wasn’t kind to him last night. I sent him on an errand.’
She pulled another book from the shelf. ‘Why did you send him on an errand?’
‘It’s best to keep him busy. You never know what kind of trouble he might get into on his own.’ He scrutinised the cover of the one she held. ‘And he had such bad fortune. The carriage became stuck in the mud.’
She scrutinised him. ‘Truly stuck?’
‘Sadly, yes.’
‘You can’t blame yourself. After all, you couldn’t have known the vehicle would be mired. Particularly with not a lot of rain recently.’
‘I would never, in a million years, have guessed such a thing.’ He paused. ‘First time such a thing has happened in my lifetime with our carriage.’
‘Did you wait on him?’ she asked. ‘To arrive at your address?’
‘More or less. I waited. I was concerned. I mean, to be about on such a dark night. That did not make sense to me.’ He hefted a heavier tome close and flipped it to the middle pages. ‘What if he had been waylaid by a cutpurse, or a highwayman?’
‘I am touched that you are so concerned about your brother, but I am sure he can take care of himself.’
‘Miss Catesby, spare me. You never know what can happen on the dark streets at night.’ He snapped the book shut.
‘Perhaps he planned to take someone with him.’
‘I would certainly hope so.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That is mindful of you. And I forgive you for the unkind things you said about your brother’s preference for short words.’
‘Don’t forgive me. Please. No need. It’s true.’ Again, he tucked his tongue against his inner cheek for a half-second. ‘And, my poor, misguided, brother is also very forgetful.’
‘Well, he cannot help that.’
‘He could. In theory, he could remember the short words. Like I will. I do. I don’t. But I’m absolutely sure he will not.’ He turned from the books and directly towards her.
Her mother stared at Marcus’s back.
‘I had a lovely night,’ Emilie said. ‘I spent many hours with my mother and my aunt. We shared many stories.’ She squinted to see her mother beyond him. ‘Did we not, Mama?’
Her mother didn’t answer, just examined Emilie’s face.
Emilie turned straight into his gaze. She could see the faint hint of blue under his eyes, the dark lashes with a wisp of curl at the end, and the deep brown below them.
‘I’m glad you didn’t have to wait on an errant brother.’ His voice softened. ‘In fact, I cannot imagine you easily waiting on someone.’
Her mother humphed in accord.
Emilie swivelled to her. ‘It’s very true. And has been almost an abomination to my family. My lack of patience, for which I am very sorrowful.’ Then she turned to Marcus. ‘And for you to oversee a brother is very thoughtful. I’m sure he appreciates it.’
Marcus looked closely at her. ‘Nathaniel? My brother, Nathaniel? We love—another short word—each other devotedly and would fight anyone other than ourselves who dared to stab us in the back.’
She shrugged away the words.
Marcus considered the book in her hands. ‘You don’t seem particularly picky. Not picky at all.’
She examined the volume. ‘I’m very much so. Excessively so if you ask anyone who knows me. This is a good selection. Still, it will spend a lot of long periods on the shelf. Where I will place it when not in use.’
‘A purchase to last a lifetime, I would presume. Would it be one you would hold close to you for years upon years?’
‘Heavens, no. A few months would be the utmost of use I could get from it. Then I will put it away until I skim through it at intervals when needed.’ She turned a page. ‘My attention would probably be fleeting. That’s why it is so particularly good for me. It would improve my creations, not distract me from them.’
‘Pick a book, you two, and let us each be on our way,’ her mother grumbled.
‘I have chosen mine,’ Marcus said, raising his chin. He tapped the book he still held. ‘I have decided.’ His chin jutted out. ‘And I challenge you to pick the best and prove to yourself that your skill means more to you than a book does.’
‘The best?’ She waited, ignoring the sounds of the other patrons.
‘Yes. The best book for you. Why settle for anything else? Pick a story that you can read tonight.’
‘Tonight? You suggest I should read tonight?’
‘Well, you didn’t read much last night.’
‘No. I didn’t.’
‘If you had planned to read last night, then you should plan the same again tonight. In the same place, at the same time.’
Her mother marched around Marcus and seized the tome in Emilie’s hands.
‘Lord Grayson,’ Lady Catesby said, and tapped the book against her palm. ‘My daughter will be with me and her aunt tonight until they creep away to pretend to read, then I’m sure they’ll talk ad infinitum about shades of sunsets and Emilie will arise in the morning with a smudge of colour on her cheek that she received from reading.’
Marcus stared at Emilie and it was as if he could see beyond her into the indecision and the woman and into the little girl she’d once been and all the moments in between, except he could see no moments that she spent with the paints.
He could see the woman she could become. The true masterpiece. The princess he would have given a kiss to freely if he had but known the possibilities of them.
The hiss of her mother shoving the book on to the shelf broke their gaze.
‘We are leaving now and we are leaving London tomorrow, Lord Grayson, so we must bid you farewell. Really, farewell.’ Lady Catesby’s shoulders rose and she scowled at both of them.
‘Miss Catesby, this is your last chance,’ Marcus said, lifting the volume in his hand.
Her mother angled her chin at Marcus. ‘I am sure there will be many, many good books in the world for my Emilie Marie. Books that she might read in the light of day. With a chaperon present.’ She grabbed Emilie by the arm and rushed her out of the shop.